


Sabre the Wet-nosed Bloodhound

by fanoftheknight



Series: Bumps, Bears and Broken Things [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sabre is Westeros' best boi, Sabre just wants some love from his papa, Slobbering dogs trying to be helpful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28126641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanoftheknight/pseuds/fanoftheknight
Summary: It is winter in King's Landing and although Jorah's home is wherever Daenerys is, there are some traditions from the North that still remain and Sabre, his ever-faithful and loving bloodhound only wants to help out...
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: Bumps, Bears and Broken Things [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811089
Comments: 40
Kudos: 37
Collections: Winter Jorleesi 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here is my first submission to the 2020 Winter Jorleesi event and is (very) loosely based on Rudolf the Red-nosed Reindeer and is probably one of my more fluffier fics, so I hope you enjoy!

“What time is it?” Daenerys asked sleepily as she felt Jorah disengage from the embrace they’d wrapped themselves in the previous night.

“It is still early, go back to sleep,” he answered her with a kiss before sitting on the side of their bed and pulling on his breeches.

Daenerys rubbed at her eyes, peering suspiciously at him.

“Then why are you getting dressed?” She asked him. “Is there somewhere we need to be?”

He smiled at the question and bent down to kiss her cheek.

Winter was upon them and although the climate in King’s Landing was much less harsh than that of the North, there were some traditions that Jorah would insist upon clinging to until the day he died, with one of them being the traditional Winter feast that was held on the season’s shortest day.

Back on Bear Island, the Lord of the House would take several of his men and women to hunt down the largest game they could find which would then take centre stage at the feast that evening. Knowing that they shared their lands with the rich wildlife around them, once the game was captured and killed, any other animals they found were left alone. Although the people of Bear Island relied on its animals as a source of food and their furs for warmth, they were not savages and only killed what was needed to in order to survive the long and harsh winters that came upon their lands.

“I am taking some men to find a suitable prize for tonight’s feast,” he replied, pulling on his undershirt and tying the laces.

“And why do you have to go?” She said, somewhat uncharitably at thought of laying in their quarters alone. Any time he was not with her, the bed seemed much larger and colder without him.

“Because it is tradition,” he answered her patiently, eyeing Sabre whose ears pricked up at the sound of his master’s voice.

“Perhaps I should ban all traditions then. I am the Queen, after all,” she said with the hint of a smile curling at her lips.

“It is important to me, Khaleesi.”

She acquiesced immediately, knowing that Jorah rarely, if ever, asked her for anything. He gave up his hopes, dreams and aspirations to see her achieve hers and had been by her side always. Still, the memory of their visit to Bear Island had seen Jorah badly injured after falling from a horse and his recovery was fretful for her to say the least.

“Promise me that you will be careful,” she said as she eyed Sabre getting to his feet and scratching his ear. “Take Sabre with you.”

The dog barked happily at that as his tail thumped loudly on the floor.

“Perhaps he should stay here with you,” Jorah frowned.

Since returning to King’s Landing, Sabre had happily made himself at home with his new owner and every attempt to make the beast sleep in a room separate from theirs had been met with constant howling and scratching at the door from the lovable, slobbering hound. Everywhere that Jorah went, Sabre insisted on following.

Eyebrows were raised during audiences in the throne room, but not one person was foolish enough to question why Sabre followed his master like a shadow. It simply became accepted that wherever Jorah went, the bloodhound soon followed.

The beast seemed happiest when by his master’s side or sleeping by the fire in the hearth and nosily gobbling down the fresh meats his owner regularly bestowed upon him. Still, it had taken time for Jorah to accept the bloodhound sleeping in their quarters, especially during more intimate moments with his wife to which Sabre would almost comically turn his position so that his back faced them and lay his head on his front paws to sleep.

“His job on Bear Island was to help his master with hunting,” Daenerys continued. “Surely he will be of use to you.”

Jorah shook his head ruefully. Since coming to King’s Landing, Sabre had been so excited by his surroundings that it was almost impossible to stop the dog’s exuberance any time he saw something new and unfamiliar. It was fair to say that Sabre was easily distracted and any discipline his former master had instilled in him had gone out of the window since then.

No, Sabre’s only uses now were chasing sticks, jumping in muddy water and slobbering at the sight of a freshly cooked piece of meat.

Jorah finished dressing for the day before bending down to kiss his wife.

“Stay here with Daenerys,” Jorah ordered the dog who whined and pulled his ears back in response to his master’s seeming rejection.

Sabre turned to look at her and then back to the door of their quarters as Jorah closed it behind him, whining softly before sinking back down to the floor.

* * *

After following their target for quite some time, Jorah slowly crept down into the bushes, nodding his head at one of the archers. It was an old-fashioned way to hunt their prey, but Jorah had no desire to set up traps across the more fertile areas of King’s Landing in which several other animals might be injured or killed. Their aim was to bring back one kill and one kill alone.

The deer bent its head down to drink from the cool water in the lake, seemingly oblivious to the danger it found itself in. Jorah gave the archer a final nod as the man readied himself to take his shot. With any luck, it would be a clean kill and the deer would not suffer for long. The annual hunt may have been tradition, but Jorah was firmly against killing animals indiscriminately.

There was silence as the arrow whistled through the air towards its target and just as the weapon found its mark, a booming bark broke the silence as Sabre ran towards the injured deer who tried to flee as best it could with a fatal wound in its side.

Jorah cursed the bloodhound under his breath, realising that they might never find the deer now that it had run.

“Sabre!” He bellowed as the dog continued to chase after its prey, ignoring his master completely, much to the amusement of the retinue of hunters accompanying Jorah, all of whom had become used to seeing the old knight and his faithful bloodhound.

After several minutes of following the sound of Sabre’s bark, Jorah finally came upon the dog who sat proudly next to the deer that had mercifully already taken its final breath. Sabre looked at his master, yapping excitedly and leaning back on his hind legs in expectation of a reward from his human companion. Sabre’s ears flattened on his head when Jorah scowled at him and motioned for his men to gather the deer in preparation to take it back to the keep.

As the group made their way back to the keep, Jorah ignored Sabre’s attempts at gaining his attention at every turn, leaving the poor dog whimpering and whining the closer they got back to the keep.

It was bad enough that Sabre had stowed away on their ship from Bear Island several months ago and while the slobbering beast meant well, Jorah couldn’t help but feel that his life would be considerably easier without the useless mutt in it for all the trouble it caused.

Daenerys frowned when Jorah and Sabre returned to the quarters. The dog appeared sheepish and submissive while Jorah wore a scowl that did nothing to enhance his ruggedly handsome features.

“How was the hunt, were you successful?” Daenerys asked, watching her husband undo his sword belt.

“We caught a deer big enough for the feast…eventually,” he replied as he pulled off his now muddy boots, dropping them to the floor with a thud. “No thanks to that slobbering fool.” He pointed at the dog.

Daenerys moved towards her husband, trying to hide her smile at Jorah’s sullen demeanour.

“Come now, Jorah,” she said, attempting to soothe his grumpy mood. “He only wanted to help you.”

“Help?” Jorah scoffed. “He’s about as much help as a hole in the head. And I don’t suppose you have any idea how he managed to get out of the keep?”

Daenerys had the good grace to look sheepish at his question.

“I may have left the door ajar on my way to the morning audience in the throne room,” she replied, fiddling with the front of his tunic in an effort to distract him. “Sabre did the rest himself…maybe if you’d taken him on the hunt in the first place…” She placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Remind me why I agreed to keep him, Khaleesi?”

“Because you have a kind heart,” she answered him between kisses. “And you love that dog as much as he loves you… You just won’t admit it.”

“The only thing I love is right here in my arms,” he told her as her hands began to fiddle with the buttons of his tunic while his went to the ties on the back of her dress. “There is no room for anyone or anything else.”

Daenerys stopped momentarily to look him in the eye. 

“Usually, I do not like to share, but for Sabre I can make an exception,” she replied, realising that apart from her dragons, Sabre might be the only other ‘child’ they would ever have. Yes, the bloodhound was hard work and rarely did as he was told, but the love he gave to his masters more than made up for any inconvenience he might cause them with his antics.

As things began to get heated, Jorah cast an eye at the dog.

“Unless you want to stay in my bad books, turn around and don’t look.”

Sabre let out a soft huff and trotted away to the far corner of the room before curling up and resting his head on his front paws as his two favourite people lost themselves in each other’s embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

The feast was an enjoyable affair and one that Daenerys was determined to continue for many years to come. Having lived most of her life in exile across the Narrow Sea, the customs that Jorah was so familiar with seemed alien to her.

The meal was grand and with much food and drink which Daenerys ensured had been shared equally between noblemen and common folk alike. The Great Hall was packed to the rafters with friends and allies from across Westeros and engendered a feeling of love and familiarity, especially for Sam and Gilly and their growing brood of children as everyone sat along the longest table ever seen in the Seven Kingdoms. There was much frivolity and laughter, along with the food and wine, with those in attendance celebrating the many things that they were thankful for.

Sabre slowly worked his way back into his master’s good books in the weeks since the feast and followed Jorah’s commands, more often than not. No matter how much Jorah might try to deny it, he would never be able to stay angry with the hairy hound for too long. Jorah liked to think of himself as a cold and unfeeling Northern man, but had just as much of a gentle heart as he claimed his wife did.

Oddly enough, over the past few days, Sabre was paying more attention to Daenerys than he was his beloved master and perhaps the dog sensed that she had been feeling unwell for a number of days now.

It started with a feeling of nausea that Daenerys convinced herself was caused by eating too much rich food at the feast, but the feeling persisted and at times even the smell of cooked meat was enough to make her stomach lurch.

And then there were the cramps.

Again, she put it down to having an upset stomach, but the pains appeared to be getting more frequent rather than settling down and abating and when sitting in their quarters, Sabre merely rested his head on her knee, nudging her hand each time she failed to stroke his head.

She felt decidedly unwell upon waking this morning and knew that she could no longer put off talking to Samwell Tarly about what might be ailing her.

Jorah was already down in the training yard, working alongside Grey Worm to keep their men prepared and ready for battle, should the time ever come.

She knew he was concerned about her, especially given how restless she was last night and the look he gave her as he left their quarters this morning meant that he would prod her incessantly until she spoke to Sam about it.

With a tired sigh, Daenerys pulled herself to her feet before a wave of dizziness came over her. Her ears began to ring as the world spun before her eyes and everything went black.

* * *

“The men look in good shape,” Jorah observed as he stood next to Grey Worm. “How many do we have on the city gates?”

“Ten on each,” Grey Worm replied, staring straight ahead as had been beaten into him at such a young age. “The men take six hour shifts.”

“Good,” Jorah nodded, turning at a sound that had become so familiar to him recently.

“Sabre, not now!” He growled at the dog who continued to bark and paw at the ground. It was then that Sabre began to snarl and the complete change in the normally placid dog’s demeanour finally got his master’s attention. Sabre never snarled or growled at him, no matter how grumpy and blunt he was with the animal.

Jorah followed the bloodhound as it made its way back inside the keep and felt his heart begin to sink as he realised where Sabre was taking him. Grabbing the nearest person he could find; Jorah ordered the poor chambermaid to have Samwell Tarly sent to their quarters immediately.

He ran into the room just as Daenerys made an attempt to sit up and lean against the bed.

“Daenerys, what happened?” Jorah asked, checking her over for any sign of injury.

She lifted a hand to her forehead.

“I felt a little dizzy when I stood,” she replied, trying to move his hands away so that she could get to her feet.

“Stay where you are,” he told her, stopping her movements.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “There is no need to coddle me.” Her tone was harsher than she intended.

Jorah would not be deterred.

“If you are fine, then why did you faint?”

She shot her husband a sour look, making it clear that his hovering was annoying her.

“It is probably because I didn’t eat much last night,” she answered.

“You haven’t eaten much for days, Khaleesi.”

The look Jorah gave her told her that they would continue their conversation at another time as they both turned at the sound of Samwell Tarly shuffling into the room.

“I came as quickly as I could,” he said, placing his satchel down and breathing heavily after half-walking, half-jogging his way to their quarters.

Sensing that he was getting in the way, Jorah shuffled to the corner of the room before bending down to pat Sabre affectionately on the head, realising that if the dog had not come looking for him that no one would have known what had happened to Daenerys.

“Good boy,” Jorah said, running his hands over Sabre’s ears and snout as the dog licked his master’s fingers.

Sam walked over to them several minutes later with a knowing smile on his face.

“You and Your Grace might need to reconsider your living arrangements,” the maester said.

“Excuse me?”

“These quarters may not be big enough for you in about nine moon’s time.”

It took several moments for Jorah to digest the news.

“We’re to have a child?” He said, still slightly dumbfounded.

“You are, Ser Jorah,” Sam replied, clapping the other man on the shoulder. “Congratulations.”

* * *

Jorah lay quietly in their bed, running his fingers up and down his wife’s arm as she snuggled in closer to him under the furs. It had been several hours since Samwell told them that they were to be parents and Jorah was still finding it hard to comprehend that they had achieved the impossible. 

As Mirri Maz Dur told it, Daenerys would never have children of her own and now here they were with a babe on the way.

“Are you happy?” Daenerys asked as her own fingers danced across his chest.

“I am more than happy,” he answered her. “I have been far more fortunate than any man has a right to be.”

“And Sabre will have a little brother or sister to protect,” Daenerys replied with a smile. “I have a feeling that he’ll be getting under _my_ feet until the babe is born.”

“As he should,” Jorah chuckled. “I expect him to be beside you all the times that I am not. I think he has proven himself to be a suitable nursemaid.”

“Perhaps we should be thankful that he came into our lives when he did,” Daenerys said, looking up at her husband as her mind cast back to that horrible time on Bear Island where Jorah was bedridden and blind for a number of days and Sabre had refused to leave his side.

“Aye, we have much to be thankful for,” Jorah replied. “As the books tell it, the Winter feast is the time of year when a man should think of everything he has, everything he is grateful for and the blessings he has received.”

With Daenerys as his wife and a child on the way, Jorah knew without a doubt that he was blessed far more than any man had a right to be and while he would protect his wife and child at all costs, there would be times when he would not be close enough to defend them, but he knew Sabre would be more than capable of guarding everything that Jorah held dear.

Yes, it was indeed the time of year to be thankful for everything that had been bestowed upon him – even Sabre. For too long now, Jorah considered gifts to only be material things but the best gift of all was surely the safety and security of a family who loved and cared for you – four legged, slobbering beasts included.


End file.
